A Faerie's Lament
by FalselyTrue
Summary: Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned—William Congreve. Moth's three loves and the girl she loved as a sister—Sabrina Lareina Grimm. Alt. Title: Like A Moth to a Flame.


**Title: A Faerie's Lament**

**Summary: Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned—William Congreve. Moth's three loves and the girl she loved as a sister—Sabrina Lareina Grimm.**

**Rating: T**

**Warnings: Death, romance, onesided MothxMustardsed.**

**A/N: A oneshot that's been fluttering on moth's wings in the back of my mind for a couple months. Actually, it's been typed up for about three months, but my USB got confiscated and I only just got it back. Plus, I only just sent it to and got it back from my ever-lovely BETA EclipseTheVampire. **

**But I got sick of the evil Moth and Moth loves Puck things, and I wanted to explore her some more. Not sure of the reaction to this, but we'll see where this goes. I think it'll stay a oneshot, but if you want, I can extend it to the other Faerie's I can think of.**

**Disclaimer: Sisters Grimm isn't mine. That honor goes to Michael Buckley, and Moth of Faerie doesn't belong to me OR him. She belongs to Shakespeare. I think.

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Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, wasn't that what Shakespeare said?

Nay, that it wasn't. _Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned_, and it certainly wasn't William Shakespeare who knew that. Shakespeare was an imbecile, determined to further only himself. Nay, it was another William…a William I truly loved but lost to time.

William Congreve, that was the name of the man who wrote that. I knew him, once upon a time. He was the first to hear my tale, though ne'er did he write it down. That, that job my lord king, Oberon and my lady queen, Titania gave to another William, this William the vile William Shakespeare.

There tis much they ne'er told him, but also much he was told but ne'er scribbled out. I wrote much of it down, emptying my mind of memories, and then took the satisfaction of burning them.

A girl should have the pleasure of a blank slate, should she not? Especially when she's only years old.

Honestly, after your first thousand years, the lines between good and bad and right and wrong and morals and lies start to blur.

And finally, after three thousand years, when my lady queen, Titania, finally engaged me to him who was her son—not Mustardseed, as I had hoped, but Puck, as my lady queen Titania had wished it to be—and everything looked as if it would be right for once.

But nay, Puck would not grow to be the lord prince he was destined to be, and his younger brother soon outgrew him—and I as well.

So in the time when Puck was mine-but-not-mine, I fell in love with two great men, two whom shall always be in my heart and I in theirs. The first I have already named—Mustardseed, him who I had hoped would be mine but was not destined to be mine. I loved him, loved him I truly did and still do.

He and I were together when no one would look, and everyone in court but my lady queen Titania saw that I was not for her elder-who-was-younger, but rather for the younger-who-was-older. Even my lord king Oberon saw and knew and approved.

But Mustardseed had a sense of honor and would not love me because I was his brother's. And so he ended it with me and my heart broke for the first time.

A few hundred years later, I thought I had fooled myself into believing I was in love with Puck, but nay, I fell for my William, my William Congreve. He loved me and hated me until the day he died, the eternal thirteen year old girl who would sit with him and talk as his equal, a girl who told him fantastical stories and made himself.

But when he married, he told me to leave—and from there came his famous quote. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned—I scarred him for life.

But he ne'er forgot me and I ne'er him.

So I tried to love my lord prince Puck once more. I knew in my heart I could not—he was not mine to love.

Finally, when the first Daughter Grimm in three hundred years was born, the first Daughter Grimm and not Son Grimm, Puck took one look at her and ran.

Puck ran for Ferryport Landing, remaining ever at the age of twelve, while I was trapped at thirteen and his-brother-my-love fifteen. He knew, he knew, that he would fall in love with her—and I knew, because I am who I am and that tis something that ne'er would let me go.

But another thing we'd always known—Puck would always fall in love with the Grimm girls…as he had for the first. Ne'er did they live past nine, and every time, his heart broke even more, and he would not allow me to fix it.

The first Daughter Grimm began to grow, and five years later, the second Daughter Grimm was born.

Two Daughter Grimms! I watched over the girls when the parents could not, treated the elder Daughter Grimm as a sister when the Mother Grimm came to advise my lord king Oberon and lady queen Titania. I had even helped named the elder Daughter Grimm—Sabrina Lareina. Sabrina the Queen, for truly, the elder Daughter Grimm was a queenly young child and would grow up to be a queen of a nation, I knew it in my heart.

The younger Daughter Grimm ne'er liked me, and the Sabrina Lareina always wanted to protect her. I hated the younger Daughter Grimm—Deanna, I think her name was, but time hath made the names too hazy for recollection —for taking the girl-who-was-my-sister-but-not away from me. For taking Sabrina Lareina away from me.

I, an only child, relished the chance to have a young girl at my side, for young faeries were rare and young fairy girls rarer still.

When Sabrina Lareina hath nine years, the Scarlet Hand caught ahold of her parents, and very nearly killed the two Daughters Grimm.

It was I who tipped off the state that Sabrina Lareina and the younger Daughter Grimm were alone in that apartment without the Parents Grimm, and no doubt Sabrina Lareina would hate me if she knew that I was the one who placed her in foster care.

But truly, foster care was much better for the Sisters Grimm, far more better than growing up in either the court of my lady queen Titania (for young girls ne'er went to the court of my lord king Oberon) or trapped under the control of the vile Scarlet Hand.

It was far better for them this way. The Grandmother Grimm did not even know they existed, and instead, she hath believed that Sabrina Lareina had been stillborn, and heartbroken, her mother hath committed suicide, with her husband being killed in an accident after being drunk from drinking away his sorrows.

Grandmother Grimm was surprised when I called her, and I gave a false name—Marian Mosley, a concerned shelter worker.

Two weeks later, the Sisters Grimm were on a train to live with their grandmother.

It was about this time Oz approached me to join the Hand—he knew that there was a Son Grimm now, and that the Master had the Son Grimm in his clutches. He knew I loved Sabrina Lareina, and thought I would love the Son Grimm. I joined to protect the Sisters Grimm—soon to be the Siblings Grimm if my plan worked.

And then the unthinkable happened. Sabrina Lareina and the rest of the Family Grimm (well…I would assume so. I have not met them all, and nor have I the interest to meet them or know all their names.) came to New York, just as I put my plan in action.

All of that planning for…nothing. Nothing at all. I had to go through with it—and I had to act like I hated Sabrina Lareina.

So yes, I poisoned her.

Yes, I tried to kill her.

Yes, I take all that blame and more.

Yes, I am guilty.

But the poison would not have killed her. It only would have knocked her down for a year, and at the end of that year, it would have revived her.

It was a mild form of the potion used to send Sleeping Beauty to her bed in the tower for the hundred years she slept. I would know, for I invented that original potion.

And it was horrible, mixing that potion for her to drink. Absolutely horrible pretending to loathe every fiber of her being.

But I did it because I had to keep Sabrina Lareina safe.

And keep her safe, I did. I may have been sent to Faerie prison for what I did, but Sabrina Lareina, Sabrina the Queen, tis safe and with the one who truly loves her.

I was there, hidden, when my lord prince Puck poured his heart out about my late lord king Oberon to Sabrina Lareina, and I knew.

I knew that Puck would ne'er be mine, ne'er had been mine.

I knew that the instant Sabrina Lareina was born, the fate of the Faerie world and the fate of those two beloved young ones was decided.

Puck was in love with her, head over heels, over the moon, gone to the end of the universe and lost to the stars.

Puck ne'er was mine, was he? Just like I ne'er was his.

I was right in naming my beautiful Sabrina Lareina, for she would be a Lady Queen of Faerie. Puck would take his throne in her lifetime, and for the short time that she was his, she would be the only human Lady Queen of Faerie. But knowing her, she would be much hated and much beloved, a wise and just queen who would not last.

I do love Puck, as much as one can love someone who replaces your true love.

My William is as Puck's Sabrina Lareina.

Only human, soon to be lost to time. Only human, only human, only human.

She, as my William was, will be lost to time, but Puck will ne'er heal.

Just as I ne'er have from the loss of my William.

I am Moth of Faerie, the betrothed of my lord Puck…but I am just another broken heart. The one whom I love I cannot love, because he is the brother of him who I should love.

I ne'er wanted to be who I am. I ne'er wanted to be embittered and lost to the world. I ne'er wanted to be fixated on Puck.

I loved once, my William Congreve.

I loved twice, my Mustardseed.

I loved thrice, my Sabrina Lareina.

There tis no room in my heart for Puck, try as I might.

Faeries cannot love more than thrice.

Puck has loved his thrice—Sabrina Lareina, her many-times-great-grandmother's sister, Juliette Traviesa, and Juliette Traviesa's many-times great-grandmother's own niece, Anna Marie Grimm—and I have loved my thrice—William Congreve, Mustardseed and Sabrina Lareina.

We can ne'er love truly no more, not so long as the sun doth shine and not so long as the world doth turn.

But this tis only a fairy's lament.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Nay.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

I would know.

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**R&R?**


End file.
